Wednesday of the Twenty-fourth Week of Ordinary Time

http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/091912.cfm

A shadowed bridge in the
Valley of Saint Francis, MSF

...if I have all faith so as to move mountains,but do not have love, I am nothing.If I give away everything I own,and if I hand my body over so that I may boastbut do not have love, I gain nothing.

Saint Paul's paean for love often resounds through the church during wedding ceremonies. Its optimistic, uncompromising demands sound entirely realistic and doable to the eager couple; and the guests -- some of them jaded by serial divorce -- might be re-inspired by the admonition.

The Apostle's song stands as a prophetic witness to what is truly important -- despite its unattainability. That kind of love is always beyond our reach. We can move mountains; we can make enormous sacrifices for lesser goals; and we can give away our bodies so that we may boast; but we remain disappointed and frustrated unless we have received the grace, and attained the art, of love.

That "impossible dream" quality of love is what is most frustrating for us. Why do we desperately want something we cannot take, earn or accomplish? Why must it always remain just beyond our grasp?

The Gospels describe a God who approaches us and freely offers his love to us. He calls his disciples one by one, by name, and initiates them in a New Fellowship. His principles of membership include servant leadership, concern for the least among us, and docility before the promptings of the Holy Spirit.

Although we bring energy, enthusiasm, and genius to this "New Israel", the initiative is His. No one can love God who has not first been loved by God. No one can go where God has not sent him.

We are continually tempted to move out in front of God's motion. We think we know where the "People of God" are going and are eager to get there, even if it means moving ahead of the Church. Invariably that leads to an isolated oasis; it may provide a certain spiritual satisfaction to the individual -- but forfeits fellowship with God's people.

Over the past twenty years, friars at Mount Saint Francis have watched from afar  the formation of a renegade Catholic church by one of our own former Franciscans.  He's a bright, charming fellow; he has found a following of disenchanted Catholics to surround his makeshift altar and respond to his interpretation of what the Mass should be. There's nothing illegal about what he is doing and I suppose he and his congregation have found their needs met and their hungers satisfied. What can be wrong with that? A few months ago a sign appeared on a vacant lot not far from the Mount, announcing the construction of a new church. Perhaps they've already found a ready supply of ex-priests to fill the place of our former friar when his day comes. But who will lead their children back to the Church?

The Church is still that odd assortment of men and women personally called by the Lord. Although it's often regarded as a monolithic institution, an enormous corporation of unimaginative but disciplined sycophants; the Church is really just people who have been called by Christ to walk in his way. We don't have half the discipline we're supposed to have; mostly we respond to the Holy Spirit. We might be in a greater hurry if we knew where we were going and how to get there, but we can only cling to his shadow as he moves among us. And we abide in that love which Saint Paul celebrated.